Harry Bonnefoy-Kirkland and the Philosopher's Stone
by AwkwardWitch
Summary: Harry Potter ran away from hom- from his relatives' home when he was six years old and was taken in by Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy, aka the nations of England and France. Read along to see how the plot of this famous story changes as Harry adventures through his seven years at Hogwarts backed by several immortal beings with tons of political power. Rated T for swears/gore.
1. Prolouge

Harry Bonnefoy-Kirkland and the Philosopher's Stone

Prologue

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Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

It was because of this, that they immediately treated anything considered 'not normal' like a freak of nature. This category included their nephew, Harry James Potter.

It was no surprise to them when they found out that he had run away, after all, they had treated him like dirt and nothing more. No one had any idea where the boy had run off to, after all, he was only six and had absolutely no friends or any other family he could have gone to. They didn't even know if the boy was still alive, much less if he had food, shelter, or comfort.

While the wizarding world was left in a panic, all its citizens wondering as to where their savior had gone, Harry Potter grew up comfortable and happy.

* * *

Author's note:

And so our story begins.


	2. Chapter 1

Harry Bonnefoy-Kirkland and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 1

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Harry tried to get his legs to push on to no avail. He had been walking for around six hours' straight now and the last time he had eaten a proper meal was over two days ago, this left him with no energy and an urge to collapse right then and there on the pavement.

The street he was walking was dimly lit by a single lamp post, as all the ones around it seemed to be broken. Harry had no idea where was, all the houses looked the same to him. About ten meters ahead of him, on the side walk parallel to his, there was a man walking in the opposite direction. He was wearing a beige trench coat that covered most of his figure and face but Harry could still see a distinct mop of blond hair atop his head. For some reason **(A/N: because he's a British gentleman** ), this man was walking through the rain without an umbrella, but Harry wasn't one to talk.

It was cold, Harry was tired, and he honestly didn't think that he was going to survive the night. He could feel his body begin to shut down. He could feel the rain batter against his back as he fell to his knees. The world started getting blurry. The last thing he saw before going unconscious was a blur of beige and blond rushing towards him.

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Harry awoke on a comfortable queen sized bed in a dimly lit room to the sound of two voices speaking in hush tones beyond the slightly ajar bedroom door. After he realized that his glasses were on a drawer beside the bed, he put them on and took a look around the room.

The room Harry woke up in was about two times the size of the Dursley's living room. Beside the bed were two drawers, one decorated with a plant and the other had a clock and a glass of water on it. Realizing how thirsty he felt, he gratefully reached over and downed the entire thing at once.

Across the room, was an antique desk with some stationary on it. It was accompanied by a matching chair that had a pieces of clothing slung over it. Harry then noticed that those were the clothes he was wearing before. Looking down Harry could see that he was indeed in a different set of clothes. He was wearing a pair of green pajamas made out of a soft material he couldn't identify.

On the wall to his right Harry spotted a pair of green curtains half-covering a window which just about gave him the ability to see the green outside. Wanting a better look, he propped himself up and walked over to the window.

Now Harry could see that beyond the window there was a relatively large clearing behind the building he was in that was surrounded by a vast green forest. In the clearing Harry could see a big garden. It was filled with many rose bushes and statues, and it even had a small maze. In the garden sat a small patio with a few small tables and chairs. To the right of the garden were three green houses that were a bit too far for Harry to make out what was growing inside them.

Harry turned back towards the opposite wall and trudged towards the door.

At last, Harry decided to confront the people who were whispering outside.

While he was definitely grateful that they brought him in from the rain, he couldn't help but be curious as to their identities.

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Harry gently pushed the door open, just wide enough for him to fit through. The old piece of wood creaked a bit as it moved, silencing the voices outside.

As their heads turned towards him, Harry finally got a good look at his saviors/kidnappers. One of them was clearly the man who passed him on the street, the messy blond hair atop his head easily recognizable. Instead of wearing a trench coat, he was now wearing a green sweater vest on top of a white cotton shirt, along with a pair of beige slacks, making him look older than the age Harry assumed he was. Harry made eye contact and saw that this man's eyes were a brilliant green to rival his, and they were shadowed by what had to be the thickest eyebrows Harry had ever seen. The way they grew on the man's head made him look like he had a permanent scowl.

The other man had silky blond hair that grew a bit past his shoulders, half of which was currently tied back into a short pony tail, while the other half curled slightly to from a frame around his face. He light stubble on his chin, the kind you get when you forget to shave for a few days. Harry had to describe this man's face as beautiful, not handsome, like his companion was, but beautiful. His deep blue eyes flickered back and forth between Harry and the thick-eyebrowed man from before, shining with concern for the boy before him, and filled with anticipation for his companion to do something.

The man from the street was the first to make a move.

"So sorry, did we wake you?" He asked, his face scrunching up a little with guilt.

He had a very strong British accent but Harry couldn't pinpoint exactly where in Great Britain it came from.

The man with blue eyes then added "Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Harry could easily tell that this man's accent was French, the accent was quite a strong one as well. He looked back and forth between the two men before saying "It's alright. I'm fine, thank you."

He thought for a bit before adding "Who are you two?"

The man with the humungous eyebrows then chuckled as his companion replied "My name is Francis Bonnefoy and this is mon amour Arthur Kirkland."

Harry didn't really know what a 'mon amour' was so he just nodded and said "My name's Harry."

Francis smiled and said "How about we take you down stairs for some hot cacao and there we can talk?"

Harry nodded and let Francis take his hand and lead him down the long corridor. The floor was carpet with a lush green that made it look like grass which matched the pattern of of roses and vines that striped the beige wallpaper every few meters or so. Harry noticed that Francis sneered a little at the wallpaper and muttered something about the British having not taste but he chose to ignore it. Every ten-ish meters was another door, identical to the one he had come out of. Every three doors there was a small vase of roses sitting on a table atop lace table cloths.

The corridor led to a Grand stair case that joined with the one coming from the opposite wing, halfway down to the ground they came together to create a wider set of stairs that reached the first floor. Entering a doorway in the hallway, to the left of the stairs on the first floor, Harry and Arthur sat down side-by-side on a comfortable couch as Francis went to make the hot chocolate. Harry nervously turned his head and craned his neck to look at Arthur who chuckled and said "So Harry, what's your full name?"

Harry was slightly startled by the familiarity of this man's voice, since he could not remember meeting him ever before, but something about Arthur's voice made Harry feel safe. Harry hesitated slightly before answering "I'm not sure sir, I only know my name from a neighbor who watched me occasionally, my aunt and uncle only ever called me 'boy'" he hesitated again before adding, his voice only barely loud enough for Arthur to hear, "they, and my cousin, also sometimes called me 'freak'."

Arthur's eyes widened in shock before they narrowed in fury.

In that moment Francis walked back in with three cups of hot chocolate balanced on a silver tray. As if on cue, Arthur immediately stopped glaring at the coffee table and said something to him in a foreign language that Harry assumed to be French (it's actually Old Celtic but Harry doesn't know that). Francis, clearly distraught at what he just heard, plopped his tray down on the table and enveloped Harry in a hug. As he pulled back he got down on hi knees so he was closer to Harry's eye level and put hands on his shoulders. He looked Harry in the eye and asked Harry to tell him and Arthur more about his relative.

Harry began telling them everything. The way they treated him like a servant, how he, from the age of four onwards had to get up every morning to make them all breakfast, how he had to tend to the garden under midday sun in July with no refreshment, that he was given only scraps of food to eat, Dudley and gang bullying him everyday, the screams he received from his aunt and the beatings he received from his uncle, how he wasn't allowed to go to school, the cupboard under the stairs, even the time when aunt marge's bull dog had chased up a tree and how his relatives had all left him there over night, either hoping that he would freeze over night or that he would be stupid enough to climb down and get mauled.

When he was finished Arthur's face was red with fury and Francis' was grim with distraught. The Frenchman pulled him in for another hug before turning to Arthur and asking him a question in, once again, what Harry assumed to be, French (it's actually French this time); Although it did sound different to the language he had heard earlier. After receiving Arthur's reply Francis turned to Harry.

"Would you like to stay here with us?"

Harry knew his faced must have looked ridiculous because he saw Arthur trying to supress a giggle in the corner of his eye.

"W-what do you mean?"

Francis chuckled.

"I _mean_ would you like to come to live here with us? We could adopt you, you'd never have to go back to those horrible relatives of yours. We, me and Arthur, would be your new parents and you'd grow up happily as part of our family."

Harry looked at him dumbfounded.

"You really mean it?"

"Of cour-"

He was cut off by Harry enveloping him in an excited hug.

Francis got over his shock and smiled gently when he heard Arthur chuckle from behind him. He got Arthur back when Harry broke away and smothered him in a hug of his own.

When Harry broke away his eyes were teary and his voice cracked as he tried to express his gratitude.

"I-I- th-thank you."

Arthur had regained his composure by then and bent down to look Harry in the eye.

"Harry, it really would be our pleasure to welcome you into our family. It will take a while but the adoption process would be completed in a month at the most, so what do you say? Would you like to be our son from now on?"

"That would be perfect."

After being tucked in by his two new fathers, Harry slept better than he had in years.

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	3. Discontinued

I'm sorry to say this guys but since the last update my interpretation of both England and France have changed quite a bit and so I apologize for this but I'll be discontinuing this story and writing a new one. I hope you guys will like the new version when I've published it but I have to mention that I don't know if I'll be including France in the new one, it might just be single-dad England. I'm sorry if this news has disappointed any of you.


End file.
